


I Can Listen too, You Know?

by Slytheringirle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Combeferre and Grantaire are bffs, Jealous!Enjolras, M/M, Pining!Enjolras, hurt!grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 16:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20138680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytheringirle/pseuds/Slytheringirle
Summary: Based on the prompt: Grantaire is good friends with Combeferre (who Enjolras lives with), and it's kind of driving Enjolras insane that R can have really deep, interesting conversations with Ferre and not him..Or.Five times Grantaire had a deep conversation with Combeferre and one time he did with Enjolras.





	I Can Listen too, You Know?

**Author's Note:**

> ...I'm sorry nonny, I just read the 'intresting' bit.

The apartment was dark when Enjolras entered, the only light source being the bathroom’s lamp at the end of the hallway. Confused, he carefully made his way to his bedroom. Combeferre usually left the lights on for him, but if he didn’t, then he must have a reason.

He tried to walk quietly to not wake up or disturb Combeferre, but when he passed by his room, he heard murmuring coming from within it. At first he thought that Combeferre was on the phone, but then he heard another voice -Grantaire’s. Since when did Combeferre and Grantaire have sleepovers? Sure, they’ve always been close, going to each other for everything, but sleepovers? That was a start.

He knocked gently on the door. The voices on the other side stopped, and a moment passed before he heard Combeferre’s ‘come in’. He opened the door and from the light coming from the bathroom, saw Combeferre sleeping on his bed and Grantaire on an air mattress beside him.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Said Grantaire, his eyes widening. “I didn’t know you were out, I would’ve left the lights on.”

“Grantaire,” groaned Combeferre. But Enjolras shook his head. “It’s okay, it’s just… Since when do you guys have sleepovers?”

Grantaire laughed at that, and Combeferre snickered. “Why, do you want to join, dear Apollo?”

He rolled his eyes and stepped back, closing the door behind him. He hated it when Grantaire did that. Whenever he tried to ask him a question, the artist would turn into a joke. He didn’t understand why. He couldn’t even  _ come up  _ with a reason.

Sighing, he resumed his way down the corridor, making sure to turn off the bathroom’s light before he went to his room.

**-**

As soon as the meeting was over, the amis broke into conversation, gathering in groups beside the bar or at tables to study. Enjolras was talking with Combeferre when Grantaire came, a grin plastered on his face as he pulled back a chair and seated himself beside Combeferre. 

“By all means,” said Grantaire when they paused mid-conversation. “Continue.”

Combeferre smiled and turned back to Enjolras, but he was looking at Grantaire. “No,” he said. “If you want to talk to Combeferre then go right ahead, our conversation can wait till later.”

When Grantaire continued staring at him, Enjolras pulled out his laptop and started working on an assignment, hoping that Grantaire would get that he was minding his own business and continue. But when he talked with Combeferre, they were discussing some movie that had come out recently and Enjolras had to bite back a cry of frustration. He knew that that wasn’t what Grantaire had wanted to talk about, but because Enjolras was there-

“I’ll go to the bathroom,” he said, excusing himself. Combeferre nodded, but Grantaire just looked at him strangely.

Annoyed, he strode to the bathroom with more force than necessary, but he stopped when he reached it, choosing to stand beside the door and strike up a conversation with Feuilly, who was sitting at the table with Joly and Courfeyrac, studying for an upcoming exam. From the corner of his eye, Enjolras saw Grantaire’s expression turn serious as he talked with Combeferre and wanted to thump his head against a wall.  _ Why _ just  _ why  _ did Grantaire think he’s not trustworthy? Did he think he was going to spill his secrets to the world and advertise them to help the cause?

**-**

“Hey,” greeted Enjolras as he took a seat the lunch table, placing his backpack on the empty chair beside him.

“Hey,” answered Combeferre, a small smile playing on his lips.

“What?”

“Nothing,” hummed his friend.

“ _ Combeferre _ .”

“What?”

Before he could say anything else, the chair on his left was pulled back and Grantaire slid in. He tried to smile at Enjorlas, but he looked like he was about to cry. “Is everything okay?” He asked.

“I’m okay, Apollo.” Answered Grantaire, but his tone was hushed. “Never been better.” 

He opened his mouth to respond but saw Combeferre gesture at him to not to from the corner of his eyes. So instead he said: “Great. I, uh, have an assignment to turn in.” And he fled. 

Once he was out of their sight, he leaned against the English department’s well and slowly exhaled, trying to stop his own tears from flowing. He knows that Grantaire will never talk if he was there, hence why he fled. It pained him to see the artist in this state, it’d hurt him to see  _ any  _ of his friends in this state. But it’s different with Grantaire. He doesn’t know how to explain it; he’d seen Courfeyrac crying before and no matter how hurt he’d been at the sight of his friend’s tears, it was different with Grantaire. He wants to hold him in his arms and comfort him, tell him that it’ll be alright, only if Grantaire would tell him what the hell was wrong. 

Was he really that bad of a listener?

**-**

“Coming!” Cried Enjolras as he closed his laptop. With a sigh, he pushed back the chair and got up, making his way to the door. Who the hell comes at one thirty in the morning?

He opened the door and found himself face-to-face with Grantaire. 

“Apollo,” said Grantaire, a sly smirk on his face.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Grantaire. What do you want?”

Grantaire leaned against the wall, his arms folded on his chest. “And what makes you think I want something? Maybe I just came to check on you. See if you’ve finally worked yourself to death.”

Enjolras raised his eyebrows. “At one thirty in the morning?”

Grantaire relented. “Faire enough.” Then, “I came here to talk to dear Combeferre actually. I didn’t call him beforehand though, so he won’t be expecting me.”

“Combeferre is out of the city,” he said, surprised the Grantaire hadn’t known that. “Something about a study group. Why? Did you want something?”

Grantaire shook his head, making to leave. “Nah, I just wanted to talk. By all means, don’t let me hold you back from whatever revolution you’re planning. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he turned to leave, but Enjolras stopped him.

“I don’t have anything to do actually. Well, nothing that can’t wait,” he added at Grantaire’s raised eyebrow. “We, uh, we can talk if you want.”

Grantaire smiled, “no, Apollo, it’s okay. Go sleep, heaven knows you need it.”

“No, real-”

“I insist.”

He glared at Grantaire before closing the door and going straight to bed.

**-**

“He doesn’t like me, I know he doesn’t,” Moaned Grantaire against Combeferre’s chest.

“Have you asked him?” Asked Combeferre.

Enjolras was watching them from an alcove in the Math department’s building. He’d wanted to sit with Combeferre, but saw Grantaire approaching him, so he hid, not wanting to push the artist away. 

A twinge of jealousy twisted in his chest at the sight of Grantaire hugging Combeferre, but he ignored it. He’ll figure out why Grantaire doesn’t talk to him if it’s the last thing he does.

“What are you doing?” Came a hushed whisper from his side and Enjolras let out a yelp of surprise. 

“What are  _ you  _ doing?” He hissed at Courfeyrac, but it was too late. Combeferre and Grantaire have already spotted him, the latter waving them over. He glared at Courfeyrac before going to join them.

**-**

“Combeferre is not here,” said Enjolras by way of greeting. “But he will be soon, so you’re welcome to wait if you want.”

“You can’t just invite people in,” said Grantaire as he entered. “They could be vampires for all you know.”

Enjolras let out an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been here before.” He pointed out.

“That’s not the point.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You can wait in the living room, I’ll be there in a minute, I just need to get my laptop.” He needed to tell him to make himself at home, because he knew he would.

  
Enjolras frowned at the TV screen when he came back. “What’s that?”

“Oh, my” said Grantaire, one hand clenching his heart and the other draped over his forehead. “There is something the mighty Apollo doesn’t know.”

Enjolras merely looked at him, unimpressed. 

“Rocketman,” said Grantaire. “It’s a documentary of Elton John’s life.” He said, not looking away from the screen.

“It’s a musical.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire handed him the remote. “I’ve watched before, feel free to switch the channel.”

But he shook his head. “No, I have an essay to finish.” He held up his laptop.

Grantaire nodded and settled back, returning his gaze to the TV. Though he wasn’t really looking, no, his eyes were glazed over. Something was clearly bothering him, and as much as he wanted to comfort him Enjolras knew that Grantaire would never really talk to him, not when it was serious.

So he slid into the chair facing the desk and powered up his laptop, pouring his attention into the essay.

Enjolras took a break half an hour later, standing up to stretch and grab a cup of coffee. He turned to Grantaire to ask him if he wanted something only to find him in the exact same position from thirty minutes ago. 

“Grantaire?” 

No response.

“Grantaire?”

Again, no response.

“Grantaire!”

The brunet let out a startled cry, looking around with wide eyes. He relaxed when his gaze fell on Enjolras, though he was still panting as though he’d ran a marathon. “What can I do for you, Apollo?” He said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I was going to make a cup of coffee and was wondering if you wanted anything.”

Grantaire shook his head, “thank you.”

Shrugging, Enjolras went to make his cup of coffee.

When he came back, Grantaire had returned to his zoned out position. “Okay,” he said, setting the coffee mug on the table. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Huh?”

“Something is clearly wrong,” he said, sitting on the chair. “And Combeferre won’t be here for another half an hour at the very least. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Grantaire shrugged, “nothing’s wrong.”

When he didn’t respond, Grantiare’s shoulders slumped. “Do you think I can make it?” His voice was hollow.

“What do you mean?” Enjolras’s tone was gentle when he inquired, not wanting to scare Grantaire after he’d finally started talking.

“In life. Do you think I can become an artist? Get into exhibitions? Sell paintings?”

Enjolras was shocked by the sudden question, it took him a moment to respond. “Of course,” he said. “You have the potential, Grantaire. I’ve seen your paintings, they’re breathtaking to say the least. You have a captivating art style, a wonderful way of portraying your subjects. You bring out their best features, make them glow from within. And you’ve already participated in multiple exhibitions. You’re one of the best artists I’ve ever met, and trust me, Feuilly has dragged me to enough exhibitions to make my opinion trustworthy.”

Grantaire laughed at that, wiping a stray tear. “Of course he has.”

Enjolras smiled and got up to join Grantaire on the catch. “Who told you couldn’t?”

Grantaire looked down, seemingly shrinking on himself. “It’s not one person. More like the opinion of multiple seniors.”

“I’d love to see their art,” he muttered darkly, not meaning for Grantaire to hear it. 

But of course he did.

“You don’t want to, trust me.”

A smile broke on his face again and he leaned in to hug Grantaire. “Don’t listen to them,” he murmured. “You’re amazing and you’ll make it.”

Grantaire smiled and- joined their lips. The kiss was everything he hadn’t realised he’d wanted. It was warm and comforting and, at the same time, passionate. Grantaire knew what he was doing, seemed to know his way around Enjolras’s mouth, covering up his own inexperience. 

They were both smiling shyly when they pulled back for air. “So, uh, do you want to continue the movie?” Asked Grantaire, biting his lower lip and nodding towards the screen on which Rocketman was still playing. 

“There was actually a movie I’ve been meaning to watch,” said Enjolras. “Aladdin? There’s a screening tomorrow night, at eight p.m.”

Grantaire broke into a full grin, his confidence returning. “Is that a date?”

“Ugh, you just broke the moment.”

“It’s a date, isn’t it?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, getting up to get his coffee, which has probably gone cold now. “Tomorrow, seven thrity, the mall.”

He took a sip of the coffee and pulled back with a grimace. It was ice cold. 

“Coffee gone bad?” Asked Grantaire from behind him. He wrapped his arms around Enjolras’s waist and rested his head on his shoulder. “There is a coffee shop just around the corner. We can go now if you want.”

Enjolras set down his cup. “Yes please.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated! :)  
.  
And my tumblr, if you want. [@enjolraire-is-canon](https://enjoltaire-is-canon.tumblr.com/%22)  



End file.
